Exile
by SumaniDavings
Summary: You know Smoketown, don't you? Big dwarfen city, famous landmark, industial powerhouse and what not. But Smoketown wasn't always such an awe inspiring cornerstone of dwarfen might. At the dawn of time a handful of dwarfs started an outpost, that would become the mighty mountainhome we know today. This is the story of those dwarfs and their fate.
1. Prologue

Everybody knows the name Smoketown. The elves are singing it in praise of craftsdwarfship that is entirely environment-friendly. The dwarfs are carving the peaks of it's history into their walls. Humans envy the riches of Smoketown and goblins are just goblins, dreaming of its next downfall. Over five thousand dwarfs live in Smoketown and the Spire, its world famous sign, is standing tall and proud. An architectural wonder of glass, crystal, water and magma. It has been besieged countless times and the earth is filled with the blood of it's enemies and it's fallen.

Smoketown is famous for its vast glass furnaces as well. You shouldn't even buy glassware that's not Smoketown quality.

But of course everything has a beginning. At the dawn of time there was no spire, not even the mighty stone structure, razed by goblins in 867, that predated the spire as we know it. There was nothing but a calm lake and gently sloping hills with a hint of a mountain range at the horizon. No dwarf had set foot here in over one hundred years and the only dwarf that ever _had _set foot here was a scout that didn't pay attention at all. But that was soon to change. The history of Mezumamost was about to begin. Because in the days of old, the dwarfs used their own language to name their homes, a tradition that is all but lost. And yes, those of you by the name of Mezu are actually called "Smoke". My condolence to you.

It all began in the dark nights of the obsidian in 124. In the mountain home of Gikutushrir, in a tavern by the name of "_The Hanged Pig_". Of course the preparations were made before and the reason why the dwarfs left at all was an incident in late summer, but in this tavern the seven founding dwarfs of Mezumamost met for the first time all at once.

Eral Shemasmel, designated expedition leader, was the last to enter. The others had gathered around a table in the taproom and caught the occasional eye of other patrons as they were recognized. Every dwarf had a big tankard of dwarfen ale set before him or her, and as soon as she settled down, a similar beverage appeared before Eral before she even had to voice her wish for one. Thankful she took a big gulp.

Eral came to the tavern right away after a last meeting with Urist Kelalen. Her godfather made most of the preparations for the expedition she was soon to lead. The reason why she had to leave a perfectly comfortable and safe live in Gikutushrir was sitting at the other side of the table and glaring at each other with squinted eyes. Ral and Rovod. Both were fairly intelligent, quiet dwarfs which made it all the more puzzling how those two had ended up tearing themselves apart for the favor of one Inod Eturdoren. The fair lady herself was interested in neither of them and had used her influence to get the two squabblers exiled. For good.

Rals granduncle had turned to the only one of age (and not too old) that he trusted to be responsible enough for the job and not being involved in the whole affair. Eral didn't have the heart to decline the plea from her godfather. Since then they worked together to set up the expedition before Inods ultimatum ran out. Gathering sufficiently qualified dwarfs had been no easy task.

Muthkat, being Erals best friend, had volunteered. She was a carpenter and would be a blessing for the young colony. In case they survived the journey.

Rovod was a mason, but the reluctant expedition leader was not sure what to think of him. She knew him to be undeniable lazy.

Ral had talked his friend Erith into joining the expedition into the unknown. The two of them were miners. Eral made their survival the top priority in her head. Before Muthkat. Even before herself. She was strange like that.

Equally useful but not nearly as valued was Stinthad. He was a craftsdwarf and would provide the means to trade for the colony. Be it bones or stone, he could transform it into luxury items that would be useless in a dwarfen outpost but craved here in Gikutushrir. He didn't even have to be a genius artisan. He just had to provide the means for her to trade at all.

The last in the group was Tekkud, conscripted by Urist into joining. The gloomy woman was a farmer and knew how to turn mushrooms into alcohol. Eral deemed her the second most important dwarf for the colony. The young leader hoped she would be enough to provide for the expedition.

"All right", Eral finally said to her small audience, "the cart is fully equipped. We will even be escorted to the gates." She shot a glare at Ral and Rovod. None of them reacted in a discernible way. Having guards escort an expedition outside was not standard procedure. In fact Eral was sure this was the first time in dwarfen history such a thing had occurred.

Seven dwarfs rose from their seats to face their uncertain future.


	2. Settling in

**Settling in**

It was the 1st of Granit, late afternoon, when Eral ordered the cart to a halt. The vehicle stopped. The dwarfs did the same, most of them trying to hide the relief on their faces. Muthkat came to Erals side without hesitation. In the entire band of dwarfs she was the only one Eral considered a friend. She also valued her advise.

"What do you think about the lake down there?" Eral asked while pointing west. Like a blue blanket the water lay between the hills. A twisting river brought the water into the lowlands and to the sea that lay invisible beyond the horizon.

"We have the mountain in our back, so we should have ample room to carve a home."

"Sure", Eral mused, "Either that or we are food for the wolfs."

Muthkat sighed. It was virtually impossible to lead a decent conversation with Eral without her bringing up the worst case. Tekkud spewing doom sayings at every turn had not helped either. The expedition leader cracked her knuckles and took a deep breath before she turned to the waiting dwarfs. They were littered around the cart, watching the surroundings, joking quietly, being generally grumpy. Eral had a diverse following. From hope to homesickness she saw everything in those twelve eyes.

"Very well dwarfs. I know we were on the road a long time and we are all tired, but the first thing we have to do is to get a roof above our heads. Ral, Erith, we will dig into the mountain flank directly down at the shore. Don't take too long, the nights are still cold."

The two miners nodded. Ral, the older one, had a skinny frame. His younger friend Erith on the other side was built like a barrel and his entire mass seemed to be composed of bulging muscles. Alas his stamina was a bit lacking. A few times on the road they had to let him drive on the cart. Never the less he would be extremely useful, especially now when they were only starting out. They were stranded in the wilds with little more than nothing, and she was still unsure whether the caravan Urist Kelalen had promised would really make it through the wilderness or even find them in the first place. Ral and Rovod made a _serious _mess back in Gikutushrir. For a second Eral wished she never had agreed to this, but her godfather was right: Somebody had to make sure they all stood a chance. Right now, watching the wild slope and seeing nothing but untamed land she was prone to agree with Tekkud, though. The farmer had prophesied doom the moment they left the gates of Gikutushrir. Eral sighed again and nodded to herself.

"Let's go!"

It took until mid spring for the first single room to be completed. Eral closed the door behind her and took a deep and relieved breath. Part of the layout of young dwarfen colonies was a room for the manager and one for the record keeper. Eral was stuck with both tasks, as well as the responsibility to deal with traders, should any find them here. They were due in autumn and the leader hoped it would all go according to plan. The gains of those ungrateful jobs were the only single room in the entire settlement. They had been here for about a month and they took turns sleeping in a small dormitory.

Ral and Erith both tirelessly worked to dig into the mountain and make room for the various workshops and stockpiles they needed. The expedition was now safe from the weather.

The only one who still had to go out on a regular basis was Tekkud. Since they had no fields, Eral assigned her to fishing duty. She took every chance to grumble about the weather, the security and told everyone who didn't want to hear it how she would be the first victim of a goblin raid. On the other side she had unwittingly coined the name Mezumamost. Smoketown. Because there were thick banks of mist in the mornings and she complained every time about "that smoke out there".

Thoughtful Eral ticked a pencil against her teeth. Everything they had found so far was diorit. No sign of anything else. No precious metals or jewels. Eral had ordered Stinthat to build a workshop and to produce small stone trinkets. Since then he was happily making rings, armbands, chains and figurines out of diorit. Now you know were the trademark "Smoke Diorit" comes from.

Even Rovod, the mason, did his part. Since he was the only mason present he had no choice in the matter. Eral knew full well he would have left his work for anyone else to do. Happily so. But everyone else had their hands full as well. The most pressing matter at the moment was to find a place for a field now, so Tekkud could do what she was brought for. She wasn't exactly a gifted fisherdwarf, and they all were sick of lake fish anyway.

A few weeks later Mezumamost at least possessed a safe well. The miners had broken through to the spring that fed the lake and Rovod had walled the second entry off again. Nobody and nothing would enter through this tunnel. Eral hoped nobody and nothing would get the idea to swim under the wall either, which was perfectly possible. The mason had fitted a roof too and built a small fortification. Eral wanted to be able to look outside in case they were forced to seal the gates. She had not seen the mason again since then. It didn't take her long to find out were he had been. Annoyed she went to Ral and Rovod, who were digging out a wood stockpile not far away, and told them to breach the wall besides the fortification. But it wasn't urgent and they should finish their current work. If Rovod needed a longer rest, who was she to deny it?

The miners rescued Rovod before they could finish the stockpile, because he cried for help when he started to suffer serious dehydration. Eral hoped this would suffice for a warning.

Another month had come and gone until the well was finally finished. Meanwhile Eral ordered her dwarfs to bring their supplies inside. Most of them were still lying on the cart and Eral wanted them under the earth before some kobold came along and misplaced some of Mezumamosts precious goods. Her friend Muthkat had started to learn mechanics, because no one had a clue about it and someone had to do it. But kobolds were notorious for slithering through the best traps. Muthkats traps were not the best.

Their main nutrition was still fish. It had become customary not to say anything during meals, because anything the dwarfs said would be complaints. It was high time for the field. The room was already done and the floodgate was in position, but more work was to be done. Muthkat was rigging up the floodgate mechanics. Everything was coming along nicely.

At the end of the month, when the gentle weather of spring finally succumbed completely to the heat of mid summer, Tekkud came through the entry of Mezumamost and knocked at Erals door. The leader looked up and took a breath. It seemed ages since she had left for some ale and fish.

"What is it?"

Tekkud entered, a fat salmon over her shoulder.

"People are coming over the mountain."

Eral jumped from her chair in a second. This had to be the best news since they arrived here. Finally some helping hands. Seven more dwarfs had made the way into the wilderness. A young dwarf informed her that Urist Kelalen advertised the expedition a bit more.

"My Name is Domas Atorendok.", the young girl grinned from one ear to the other. "I'm sooo exited!"

"I'm Eral Shemasmel. Welcome to Mezumamost. What did you do before this?", the expedition leader asked more subdued.

Domas was at a loss for words. Finally Eral managed to extract that she had never worked a day in her life until now. She resisted the urge to cover her face with her hands and gave the girl the position of militia commander. Since no one else knew how to hold a weapon she could at least spare herself the trouble to loose someone useful. Domas was exited beyond words. Eral sighed very quietly. At least the girl was happy. Now they had to set a few more traps, because Eral was not going to put the fate of Mezumamost into the hands of Domas' fighting prowess when a band of curious goblins came for a tea party.

Eral spent the next few days getting the new settlers started in Mezumamost. There wasn't much to show yet. A few workshops, a dormitory and a meeting hall. A rudimentary mine, or to be more precise: a tunnel dug in the hopes of finding something worth finding. But still, things really started looking up. With a rare smile Eral watched over her new interior. Rovod had finally gotten around to making coffers and cabinets out of the omnipresent diorit. Half a year had passed and now she finally had a place to store her personal belongings. She had a sudden surge of shame as she still had the only room in Mezumamost, but time would change that, too.

A month after the new dwarfs had arrived, Eral sat down next to Onul, one of the newcomers. They had taken to the life in Mezumamost admirably: hauling stones over to the "hole", hauling Stinthads trinkets over to the stockpile, emptying the cart that still had some goods loaded... things were still coming along, if slowly.

"Say, Onul, how are you?"

"Oh, Eral. Quite well. Why?"

"I wanted to tell you I had two beehives installed today."

"Oh." His face lit up. He was a beekeeper, but just as Tekkud before him he had to go fishing. At least he was fond of going outside, contrary to the farmer who saw only black clouds even with a blue sky.

"I also have to talk to you about something else. You worked in the hospital a few month before coming here?"

"Yes. But I'm not qualified to treat anyone. I just helped the chief medical dwarf with diagnosing and stuff."

"Well, that makes you our medical mind. Congratulations on your promotion."

"Oh. But I... oh well."

Eral concealed a smile. Onul was one of those dwarfs who couldn't say no if you talked long enough. She pitied him a bit, but she would always do it again. It was clearly obvious for all but the smallest children that they needed a doctor. Eral would have preferred someone with experience too, but with a bit of luck they would never need him. On the other hand: A doctor without hospital wouldn't do much good. It was high time for the caravan to come by. They were in dire need of wood and Eral didn't want to cut the few trees on the east slope. There could be elves around and the last thing they needed was a horde of pointy-ears in the woods screaming for dwarfen blood.

The summer was beginning to fade when Eral made a dire discovery. She was glaring at her books and throwing nasty looks at her abacus that was standing innocently on the table. No matter how she looked at it: there was no alcohol anymore. She didn't know who had had the last drink, but it didn't matter anyway. What was even more important was the fact they were almost out of food, too. At least there was the possibility both problems would be gone in the near future. They finally managed to flood the field, and with the water came loads of fertile mud. Of course they had to enlarge the room since too much water had gotten into the room, but Eral was prepared for that. The only positive thing about the whole affair was that Tekkud was looking as happy as she could manage to look. The last time Eral had seen the mushroom farmer that happy had been in the tavern in Gikutushrir.

Three weeks later autumn had officially come, but the caravan was still not there. It should make an appearance in the next two months. Either that or the dwarfs of Mezumamost were looking at interesting times. Still, there were good news too. The wagon was finally empty and Muthkat had been more than eager to disassemble it. Eral was hoping the caravan would bring wood. If that wasn't the case she would have to order some for next year.

That the young colony managed to avoid the alcohol crisis was noticeable to Eral because more and more of her few dwarfs greeted her with a friendly smile. Now that plump helmets were growing on the field and Tekkud managed to brew a few barrels of dwarfen wine it didn't matter any longer that they had hardly enough food to last more than half a month. Eral was hoping that would change soon. She was also praying that the desperately awaited traders would have some cages with them. Muthkat was to set up some traps at the entry. Having seen Domas 'train' Eral was more sure than ever that she didn't want to lay the fate of the expedition into the girls hands, should there be a goblin raid. There were limits for her faith into her fellow dwarfs. Those were usually reached five minutes after breakfast.

But now that no one (except her and Tekkud) was fearing starvation anymore, the expedition leader could finally send her two miners to search for minerals. The mountain couldn't be made completely out of diorit, and if she had to order shafts down to the magma sea to prove it she would do exactly that.

It had been autumn for almost two month now and there was still no sign of any caravan. Eral began to seriously doubt they would receive any support at all. Muthkat always gave her a slap on the back and told her to look ahead when she caught the gaunt expedition leader having such thoughts. To distract her dwarfs Eral ordered the beautification of the meeting hall that had become the social center of Mezumamost. Rovod and Eshtan, a mason that lived here since summer, had begun to smooth the walls.

In the afternoon Eral met another four newcomers. Urist had made good on the promise to send fresh blood, at least. Now if only those traders would come...

"So, let's make this short.", she addressed the quartet of immigrants, "I only need to know who you are and what you can do, and then you can throw yourself into the tunnels."

A strong woman stepped forward.

"I'm Inod. I can do a lot of things, but I'm a competent weaponsmith. To be honest, you seem to really need one."

Eral made an effort not to wince. So Inod had noticed the bronze ax Domas used to train. The expedition leader showed a crooked smile. There was nothing to add.

The next was Vabok. She had experience as a blacksmith too, her strong point being items for everyday use. What was more important for Mezumamost right now: She had been part of the militia in Gikutushrir and knew how to handle a spear. Eral added her and Ral, who knew nothing but to make cheese, to the Mezumamost militia.

The last immigrant was Thob. He knew how to apply bandages and Eral thought him to be too useful to risk him at the frontlines. When his healthcare abilities were not needed, he worked in a forge. Doubtlessly the recruitment letters in the mountainhome had recommended Mezumamost as a outpost with need for that skill. Normally Urist would have been right. Eral tried not to think too often about the continued failure of her miners to find anything of value in the mountain. It was time to go down.

A few days later Erith the miner found her in her office gnawing on a plump helmet. He was covered in dust and rubble and carried a chunk of almost white stone with him.

"Hey Eral, guess what. We're sittin' on a whole layer of marble here. Some six meters down below."

"That's great news. Tell me if you find something shiny."

She gave him a broad grin and he went down to help Ral with more digging.

Eral was rubbing her hands together. Marble meant an easy means to make steel when they finally found iron.

Half a month later they still hadn't found anything else. Not even copper or tin. Eral retreated to the hill slope to sulk in peace and to avoid Muthkat and her cheering up while doing so. Suddenly she saw a metallic glint in the hills. At first she thought it was goblins, but then she made out pack animals and wagons. Eral jumped up, her worries forgotten, and ran down without stopping anywhere. Roughly fifteen minutes later she was standing in front of Stinthaths workshop where he had been cooped up in virtually since they first got here.

"Stop working.", she ordered between pants, trying to catch her breath and not let anyone see her relief. "Help the others to bring your stuff over to the trade center."

Stinthath practically leaped out of his chair. Just like everybody else in Mezumamost he had waited for the moment the caravan got here at last. Some of the dwarfs had started to believe they were written off in Gikutushrir. The craftsdwarf grabbed the nearest diorit bracelet and hurried out of the workshop.

While most of the dwarfs were hauling little stone trinkets into the trade center, two very busy dwarfs were working deep under the inhabited level of Mezumamost. Erith was hacking away at the stone and broke another big chunk of it free from the wall. It was the next part of a spiral staircase that was going deeper and deeper with every passing day.

"What do you think, Ral?", he asked his friend who worked besides him, "How deep under the living quarters are we by now?"

The older dwarf blowed a streak of wet hair out of his eyes. "Twenty meters, more or less.", he grunted before giving the stone beneath his feat a strong kick. To his and Erith's surprise it came loose and hurtled into the darkness of a spacious cavern.

"Oh great.", Ral mumbled.

"What is it?", the other miner asked, "That's a cave. At least we'll find some ore. Everyone knows the real riches are in the depth."

"'s that so?", Ral asked and raised one eyebrow, "In that case take a good look."

Erith checked another time.

"Oh."

Ral fell heavily onto a step.

"Well said."

Erith eyed him suspiciously.

"Shall we gamble who has to bring Eral the good news?"

"Nah, let it go. We just dig deeper and act like nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Which didn't, by the way. See if you can convince Rovod of the importance of him closing the whole at once. We don't want any of the nasty stuff up there and in Erals hair."

"Indeed". Erith agreed with his guildbrother, "Somehow I don't think there won't be any critters down here."

The younger dwarf went up into the more civilized parts of Mezumamost and withhold his opinion about Rovod. The mason had worked as tirelessly as everyone else since their arrival. Well, that episode with the wall aside. Ral had let no chance of exploiting that mistake go by.

Erith found Rovod in the meeting hall, where he just made the finishing touches to the walls. Murals were decorating the walls. Neither Rovod nor Eshtan were particularly talented engravers, but that hadn't stopped them at all. Simple pictures were switching with symbols of Gikutushrir and Erals own little government, the Armored Fist.

Once the situation with the cavern was tended to, Ral and Erith dug deeper, straight down to the core of the world. Since they had become quite adept at digging it only took them a few days to breach another cave ceiling.

Erith took a breath. "So, Ral my friend, what do you say to that?"

Ral didn't look very excited and answered in monotonously.

"Er... great, magma no sixty meters below us?"

Erith nodded.

"The magma sea seams to be quite high here. And we, my old friend, may now go to Eral and tell her we haven't found even a crumb of iron."

"At least it's magma.", Ral sighed, "Maybe she has some ideas for that."

"Muthkat, more like it. Eral's not so good with the genius ideas, she just get's everything done. But... I think Muthkat is otherwise... occupied at the moment." Ral raised an eyebrow and tried to no avail to read the broad grin of Erith.

Meanwhile the rest of the small dwarfen community had worked tirelessly for a whole week to bring goods into the trade center. It was the first day of winter when Eral decided it was enough. Avuz Katthiringish, head trader of the caravan had waited with great patience as the mezumamostian dwarfs carried figurines, rings, bracelets and other trinkets into the room, one item at a time, since there were no bins.

"Are you sure that's all?", she asked with comically big eyes.

"Of course not. If you'd like to stay until next year I can show you the whole assortment.", was Erals friendly answer.

The head trader laughed and clapped her hands.

"Alright then, what can I do for you?"

They bartered a few hours about food, alcohol – Eral had to bite back a caustic question about why she hadn't brought more into a new dwarfen colony – and some equipment for the tiny militia.

After she had the trading out of the way she ordered Erith and Ral to dig a new extension tunnel near the field, where she wanted a butchery and a tanners shop. The horses in the meadow had eaten almost all the grass and apparently no one had told the plants they could regrow.

Eral took a deep breath and looked around with a satisfied smirk, when she suddenly heard a polite voice behind her.

"Excuse me, Eral Shemasmel. My name is Reg Zegkol and I am the Liaison of Gikutushrir. Would you be able to spare a few moments now?"

Eral looked surprised at the stocky dwarf.

"You could have talked to me earlier."

"Could I?", he asked mildly. Eral blushed. She had been busy around the clock for the whole week. Being forced to carry every piece of stone jewelry one at a time had been very time consuming.

"Er... whatever. Please follow me." Eral pointed along the tunnel to the door of her room.

"At the moment we need alcohol above all other things. Cheese would be nice for a change every now and then. And we will need an anvil."

Reg raised an eyebrow.

"What happened to the one you got in Gikutushrir."

"I'm afraid we never got that one."

"Oh. Well, it can happen, considering the circumstances..."

Eral only nodded and frowned. The feud between Ral and Rovod, that was still simmering under the surface, had cost them dearly. At least the two avoided each other in the tunnels of Mezumamost. They both were fairly intelligent after all.

Eral and Reg negotiated three days until they were satisfied with the prices they agreed upon. As soon as his business was conducted the official left the small outpost and was on his way. Inod would be satisfied to hear that Ral and Rovod lived in a remote settlement that couldn't even be called a village yet. And by what he had seen the Armored Fist hadn't even managed to build a single smelter, let alone a forge.

By Midwinter, when the outside was drowned in snow, during the short days of the opal, two dwarfs who worked deep below didn't even know winter had come. Ral knocked against a wall.

"Here.", he said confidently. The hollow sound had told him that they had almost left the stone layer and dug into a boiling hot lava cave.

"I'll see to it to get one of our masons down, so we can have a gap here."

Erith nodded. Rovod and Eshtan had kept themselves busy by smoothing the walls of the barracks. Eral still didn't know what her miners were up to down here. Piece by piece they had eaten away at the mountain and found... even more of nothing. There was lava down here – loads of it – but aside from some measly gems that was it.

Erith watched Ral leave with a grumpy expression, then he proceeded to glare through one of the tiny wholes in the walls. Hot wind was blowing into his face. They had called for the masons at least five times by now. Eral was bound to ask herself what was going on in the mines rather sooner than later. They couldn't hold back the bad news forever.

Growling at the stone he shouldered his pick. The floor beneath his feet was hot and reminded him that less than two meters below him was a sea full of liquid stone waiting for someone to make a mistake. He looked around. Ral was still gone. If he was to invite catastrophe he would be the only one caught in it. Erith swung his pick and let the tip smash down on the stone. When he came here one year ago he knew how to handle his tool. By now he had learned to read the mountain and focus his own considerable power. A few minutes later the stone showed deep cracks and Erith watched a few chunks of rock sink into the magma. Of course it didn't change anything about the absence of any kind of ore, but Erith' eyes widened in shock of what he saw.

He was still standing like that when Eshtan came to an abrupt halt behind him.

"What have you done?", Ral asked sharply from behind the mason.

Erith pointed silently down into the magma pool. Through the boiling red liquid shimmered the One Thing that was more thought after by dwarfs than gold and gems taken together.

Adamantin.


	3. Untold Riches

**Untold riches**

Eral was the last to enter the meeting hall. She had just inspected the adamantin vein that Erith discovered. The expedition leader had taken note of the fact that the miners discovered a lot of stone before that without finding anything of note as well.

"So, what's the problem?", she asked, knowing as little about the occasion as everyone else. Well, apart from two dwarfs.

"Well...", Muthkat started and suddenly looked like a tomato. Some of the dwarfs knew by then what would come next and started grinning.

"Muthkat and me decided to marry.", Rovod explained for his wife. Humans needed Priests, oath' and proves of love for such ceremonies, dwarfs only needed a room to invite their friends and cart-loads of alcohol.

Two weeks later the dwarfs were still celebrating. Not even Ral coming into the meeting hall could sour Rovods mood. Ral smiled roguish and came over to his former rival. A heavy tankard crashed on the table before him.

Rovods eyes widened in surprise.

"_You_ are challenging me?"

"Sure thing. I could swear I noticed a draft down at the vein. Mark my words, behind that it's straight down." He pointed at the flagged floor, but everyone knew what he meant. "If you loose, you go down and break down the wall."

He only suggested it because no one thought the adamantin vein would be hollow this far up. Sooner or later every adamantin vein turned out to be hollow and provide a shaft straight down to hell. Demons lived there, only contained by the precious metal the dwarfs wanted more than anything. If living was the right term.

Eral hit the table surface with a flat hand. She was as drunk as the rest of them, but some things couldn't be forgotten. Ever.

"The looser makes a gap. We don't want any... _things_ up here."

Later, Rovod walked towards the vein with a swagger that was surprising considering all the ale and wine he had had during the last two weeks. Ral actually drank him under the table. The mason snorted. Everybody laughed when he regained consciousness after a few minutes, even Muthkat. She looked so radiant that he didn't even feel hurt. With sure movements he dug small holes into the wall of adamantin and looked through them. Rotten air greeted him. Eral had been right. The shrill screams from below sobered Rovod up at once. He hastily retreated from the vein that could have been the doom of Mezumamost.

Eral was nodding thoughtfully when Rovod told her of the hollow core. She had had a feeling. Why would they have better luck with the admantin vein than they had with the location in general? What she didn't tell anyone were her plans to mine the rest of the vein once they had processed the available adamantin. The dangers while doing that were extreme, but it wouldn't be something to consider seriously for a long time anyway. For now she should plan a full assembly of the outpost. She took another swig from her mug and looked around. Eral estimated it would be another three days at least, until the party would loose momentum.

It took another five days for the wedding party to end, the dwarfs to sober up and Eral to assemble them yet again. The mood in the meeting hall had changed completely. Every pair of eyes looked at Eral who was looking straight back.

"As you know we found admantin and could mine it in satisfiable amounts. Of course someone has to process it into strands now. Does anyone have any experience at all doing that?"

The silence following her words was audible.

"What about you, Zan?" Eral looked at the dwarf. She knew virtually every craft known to dwarfenkind. Well, the basics about them. Zan shrugged.

"I could try it...", she murmured quietly.

"Then that's that. Be careful and take your time with it."

Eral hated to just assign someone for this work since adamantin in it's raw form was quite sharp and could seriously hurt anyone not skilled enough.

The dwarfs returned to their daily duties after that and for a while nothing disturbed their daily routines.

Domas, militia commander of Mezumamost, was the first to see the lean figures approaching Mezumamost. Confidently she walked over to them and tried to be both welcoming and intimidating, which resulted in her succeeding at neither.

"Halt! Who are you and what do you want?"

An especially tall and slim elven woman spoke for her trade caravan. The contrast between her and Domas was extreme. A long time ago the militia commander had been slim too, but in spite of her regular training and the less then optimal food she had become incredible fat. There was no other word to describe Domas. The elf smiled a professional negotiator smile.

"My name is Alisa and I bring friendly greetings from Inimeale. We'd like to trade with you."

"Sure, I'll tell our leader Eral Shemasmel."

The elf nodded thankfully and watched the self-important dwarf stalk away.

Eral was overjoyed to have another caravan in Mezumamost, and even more to have one from the elves. Elves always had their pack animals loaded with lumber and didn't throw nasty looks and potentially deadly threats when the buyer used it. Eral didn't know what it was they were doing with the trees, but for some reason it was the only wood they considered not "cruelly stolen from mother nature" or some such thing. Whatever that meant. And they were happy that every piece of jewelry the dwarfs wanted to sell was made of stone. Elves were very strange when wood or bones were used, and Eral surely didn't want to annoy the caravan into leaving.

Sadly, Alisas caravan didn't carry that much lumber. But Eral could restock the alcohol of Mezumamost and buy some barrels for the food storage that was beginning to fill up rapidly. Unfortunately it didn't help that much.

Days came and went almost uneventful. Then Tekkud decided to have a birthday party. It was at the beginning of the galena, the last month of summer. Over a week the normally grumpy and withdrawn farmer entertained everyone with stories from her life and the meeting hall was filled with loud laughter and cheers. Near the end, Rovod approached Eral when she was leaving. Dark shadows appeared on her face as soon as the door closed behind her. Rovod knew from Muthkat that the expedition leader blamed herself for the total absence of minerals except the adamantin, and even that was scarce as far as adamantin veins went.

"I want to show you something.", he said and pretended not to see her flinch. Eral thought she was alone and a second later a forced cheery expression was painted on her face. She noticed how utterly she was failing and tried to run with a mumbled excuse, but the mason simply grabbed her arm. She tried to escape, but she was weaker than most dwarfs and Rovod had become used to hard work. She might as well have thrown wool at him.

"Were are we going?", she wanted to know when they were approaching the lava pits.

"The magma tunnel is done."

Eral wanted to use the magma to power two forges, a smelter and some glass smelters. When there was nothing valuable here, they had to make values from nothing. Or from sand, which was more or less the same. Eral didn't want anyone to dig into the magma tunnels by accident and get killed, so she had told her engravers, which were by pure coincidence the same two dwarfs as her masons, to engrave the walls. Fifty years ago Rithul Adillogem discovered the secret of making a mirror image of an engraving appear a meter inside of the stone. As the stories went the goddess of Art had a hand in it too.

If a dwarf dug through to the engraved wall sections there would be no questions about whether there was someone living behind the wall or not. Anyone who was too impolite and dug straight ahead only got what was waiting for him.

Rovod stopped in front of the door that would be sealed for good soon and made an inviting gesture. Eral frowned and entered the tunnels. The mason closed the door behind her. The expedition leader let her eyes wander along the walls. There were the usual signs of the Armored Fist, warning the world about who lived behind the walls. Between them there were lots and lots of pictures of Domas being made militia commander. At first Eral was surprised at how often the motive was repeated, but then she was starting to notice the small details she had overlooked at first. Here a female dwarf had an eyebrow raised doubtfully, there Domas was looking like a little girl that would go back to play with her puppets in a few minutes. It went on and on. Rovod had engraved almost three quarters of the wall singlehandedly. Between the many renditions of Domas there were scenes of their exodus from Gikutushrir to Mezumamost and from the first few Month.

One of the pictures showed Eral herself surrounded by rats. Eral hated rats. She had told Eshtan in a fit of drunken bonding and the artist had spontaneously used it. She supposed it was meant to show her that every fear could be overcome, but Eral didn't think it was working. Neither did her counterfeit on the wall.

One hour after she went through the door Eral returned. Nothing in her face betrayed that she had been giggling like a little girl, but the shadows of doubt had lifted, if only for now. She hugged Rovod silently and started to climb the stairs while the mason smiled very self satisfied. He entered the tunnels behind the door and made a hole in the wall that bordered at the lava filled hollow they would use. While the tunnels started to fill up, he sealed the door. Whistling a tuneless melodie he left the scene. Everyone who ignored the signs and opened that portal had only himself to blame. He was still astonished about the success the murals had. Muthkat really did know Eral well.

Eral suppressed her mad grin, when she heard someone coming down the stairs.

"Here you are.", Onul shouted when he noticed her.

"What's up?"

"There are humans who want to trade."

Eral sighed and quickened her steps. Back to business as it were.

The humans proved to be a nice distraction. Besides every last barrel of alcohol they had with them and empty barrels for the flood of food that needed storage room, they had an anvil for sale. Mezumamost now was home to a smithy, only there was nothing to smith yet. Zan was still in the process of finding a way to extract adamantin strands that didn't rip the skin from her arms.

A month later, it was now sandstone, Eral felt a shift in the mood of her dwarfs. Whenever she ate in the meeting hall she could hear them grumbling about the nonexistence of work. Of course there was the admantine, but that only kept one dwarf busy so far.

"All right, folks.", she finally spoke up, "There is a project I have that I delayed until we were settled in. I think we are now."

They would build spacious and comfortable homes. That should keep her dwarfs busy.

The first home was given to her in a nice little ceremony, since the other dwarfs wanted to acknowledge her accomplishments for Mezumamost. She was hesitant to accept that, but in the end the possibility to leave the vicinity of the crafting shops was too much of a bonus. She finally moved into quieter terrain. Eral made sure Muthkat and Rovod were assigned the next three-room flat, because it was obvious those two would be a family of three soon.

Just like last year the caravan came when winter was almost upon them. Since the food storage was full Eral could use little of what she had ordered one year ago. Except the alcohol, of course. The day dwarfs didn't need alcohol would be the day the last of them died. The caravan was not exactly big on the whole "bringing alcohol to outlying dwarfen outposts"-business. Tales of other expeditions had led Eral to believe that caravans often had large amounts of lumber with them. Apparently that had been a faulty assumption as well.

She made sure there would be wood next year. Also barrels and ore that would be molten here and turned into bins and boxes. They needed those, as did every single other dwarfen settlement.

The caravan left soon after her transaction to escape the coming snow, and Eral was still looking over the numbers, when Muthkat crashed through her door, baby in hand.

"It's here!", she shouted overjoyed. At least she had cleaned it before bragging with her newborn. Dwarfen women got their children whenever they went into labour and never asked anyone for help. It had been like this since the first dwarfs opened their eyes and became self conscious 125 years ago.

"What is it?"

"A boy. His name is Atir Rovodgeb."

"After his father?"

"He looks just like him when he was young."

"How do you know that? You know him for one and a half year."

"He made me a picture of it.", Muthkat proudly explained and showed her bracer. It was engraved with pictures that were without a doubt too private for a closer examination.

"Indeed.", Eral confirmed with her diplomatic voice and leaned back.

"Well, see you later.", the new mother laughed and darted off to show her offspring to everybody in the outpost.

Eral smiled at her retreating figure. All things considered they weren't doing too bad.


	4. Rocks fall

**Rocks fall**

Silence had fallen over the tunnels of Mezumamost. It wasn't a solemn or even calm silence. It was the silence of death.

Ral lay on a bed in the dormitory, that was now called "hospital", even if for all intents and purposes it was just a bunch of beads without a doctor. He looked over to Rovod who, like himself, lay there with serious injuries. Their endless quarrel was all but forgotten, because both of them had more pressing problems.

It had started at the end of winter. The long nights of the obsidian were just beginning to become shorter again. Only days were missing until spring was finally upon them again. But it was not meant to be a happy occasion.

Domas and her two militia fighters were alarmed by the screams of the horses on the meadow just outside the entrance. A raiding party of goblins murdered the poor animals and then went on to set up camp before the tunnel. There was no doubt how any counterattack of the militia would end. On the other hand the goblins didn't venture further inside the mountain, rendering the traps Muthkat had set up useless.

"Why did Domas and the others charge outside, anyway?", Rovod asked between heavy pants. He had a cracked rip and it made every attempt at talking a pain. Literally.

"No idea.", Ral mumbled quietly, "Maybe they thought the goblins had scattered and they could take them one at a time."

It didn't work. The goblins proved to be the better fighters by far, only one of them was enough to dispatch the three inexperienced fighters. The only goblin that lost his life was killed by a horse that had kicked him into the water were he drowned.

Stinthad was slain while he tried to rescue the corpse of his beloved Domas. For a short time it looked as if the goblins left after that, but the only unharmed dwarfs left in Mezumamost were killed by another raiding party that sneaked in front of the main tunnel while everyone was distracted by the first.

Dwarfs taken by madness had done their own share of thinning out the population. The most tragic among those deaths was Erals. She just couldn't take the utter destruction of everything she had helped build in two years of hard work. The last straw had been Muthkat, who was struck by melancholy because friend after friend had succumbed to death and she didn't respond to anyone. Not even Eral or Rovod.

Sadly Erals mind took another route to cope with the loss. She began to scream at the walls as if they somehow had brought this tragedy over Mezumamost. She cursed Domas and all her ancestors and insulted everyone crossing her path. She screamed at Muthkat, who ignored her as she ignored everything, Atir who was clinging to her back included.

Then Eral began hitting everyone and anything. Rovod had never seen anything like it. Of course she wasn't the first berserker he had seen, but she was by far the most frail and weak dwarf he knew. It was almost comical, but the murderous intent in her eyes was a warning not to take her lightly. Rovod struck, wanting to render her unconscious in hopes that she might not be lost completely, but he had miscalculated just how fragile Eral was compared to a mason – or anyone doing hard labor, really. One simple hit with his flat hand and she lay there. Dead. Rovod knew he would never be truly clean again. Normally such deeds were the responsibility of the militia or someone who had no close ties to the berserker. It was even more common to just trap the poor soul and let them live out the rest of their days behind closed doors. Non of that had been applicable.

Rovod tried to think about the here and now instead of all his losses. It was how he kept sane, or at least he hoped it was.

"I've been thinking.", Ral suddenly spoke up.

"About what exactly?" Rovods question came with quite a bit of sarcasm, but none of the mean streak that had always been there before.

"We need to go. If we stay here, we are as good as dead. We can die trying to escape this tomb as well."

"Why should I go? My friends are dead or as good as. My wife doesn't talk anymore and hasn't eaten or drunk anything in weeks. It's a miracle she can still walk."

Ral watched Rovod a long time, before he said a single word: "Atir."

"Oh well.", the mason grumbled. He had indeed forgotten the baby, since it was still dependent on the mother and she was a walking corpse. Besides, neither Ral nor himself were in any condition to journey. It would be a true miracle if they escaped alive and reached a civilized region. Gikutushrir was a long way from here for two wounded dwarfs. And they were still exiled. It was almost comical: The only survivors were the ones that couldn't return. For a moment he wondered if he should ask Ral to open up hell, but it wasn't worth it. Not anymore. Not for a handful of goblins.

Grunting, he rose from his bed and limped outside, were Muthkat was staring at a mural with empty eyes. Carefully he took Atir from her back and kissed her forehead, but she showed no sign of recognition.

"We will see each other again.", Rovod promised his wife, before he unbolted the main gate together with Ral and tried his luck at braving the wilds in the cover of the night.

* * *

So that is the story of how the first settlement of Mezumamost came to be and how it fell. Eral thought, the fact that there was nothing to steal protected them from goblins, but she failed to take the adamantin into account. Erals godfather, Urist Kelalen, heard of what had happened and sold the settlement rights to Inolvabok. Records indicate he may have downplayed the absence of ores and capitalized the fact that there was unprocessed adamantin. It didn't even take a whole year until a second expedition retook the outpost, reclaimed the deserted tunnels and evicted the goblin stragglers who thought they were the new owners. They should have really settled in.

The dwarfs of Inolvabok found Erals records and promptly reclaimed the magma forges.

They implemented her plan to use the glass industry to produce something in Mezumamost and to this day the serrated glass disks that have dissected countless goblins are legendary. They can even be viewed in the settlement times museum. Under the leadership of Inolvabok Mezumamost became more then just a forgotten outpost. It became a bustling town and a memorial for dwarfen ingenuity. The new arrivals put the deceased dwarfs to rest and the ancient records indicate that, sadly, Ral, Rovod and Atir were among the pacified ghosts. The Inolvabok colonists were also the ones that started the construction of the spire, or at least it's crude early form. It was made out of granit, not of the green glass that is a Smoketown trademark. But they were the craftsdwarfs that made the statue of the goddess of lust and games. To this day many scholars have wondered why they chose this deity as the top decoration. Personally I think it was because they were simply bored, needed something to do and then someone said: Let's build a tower and see how far up it goes. The living quarters, the aquarium and the fields came later. It was dangerous work, and there were accidents, but they prevailed. The old spire stood 750 years, until it was raized by goblins and control of Mezumamost went back to Gikutushrir. They rebuilt the spire with glass, added the mechanisms to bring water up to the fields and pumped magma from the core of the world to the boundaries of sky. Or at least that's what they write in their tourism pamphlets.

* * *

It's funny, really, how Dwarf Forteress can make a story. I limited the number of dwarfs in the colonie to 20, because I would have been completely lost about who is who otherwise and In planned from the start to make a story out of it. Ral and Rovod really had a grudge with each other from the get go and they were indeed the last survivors, which was a lucky coincidence for story telling purposes. Everything that happened did actually happen that way, including the reason why the outpost fell in just three years, only that it was my mistake and not Domas'. The story about the spire is not really a lie, the next expedition built it, but I never finished it and there would be no 5000 dwarfs in any town, anyway. I hope you enjoyed this little piece of dwarfen history.


End file.
